The Russian secret-service system has often been called the most effective and far-reaching in existence; but the Japanese have learned the methods of their huge neighbour, and with Oriental wit and alertness have surpassed their teacher. At about this time several accidents happened in the Russian navy yards at the head of the Baltic. One ship suddenly sank at her moorings; another was severely damaged by an inexplicable explosion; other strange mishaps befel the newly organised fleet before they left their moorings. Everybody read in the newspapers the reports of these "accidents," and everybody was puzzled to account for them—everybody, except the authorities at Tokio!
In spite of every hindrance and disaster it became evident that the fleet was nearly ready to sail, fully equipped and manned for the long cruise which was to terminate, according to general expectation, in the greatest naval battle the world had ever seen, should the fleet reach Eastern waters.
Taking a swift liner across the Pacific, Oto, with ten picked men of the Japanese navy, arrived at Vancouver on the 1st day of September. The Canadian Pacific, Grand Trunk, and New York Central railways landed the party in New York on the 7th; one week later they were in London. Here they took a small steamer on a local line, reaching Aberdeen on the 15th. On reaching shore the men, most of whom were dressed as common sailors in the merchant service, scattered among the water-side boarding-houses, and, in a city where seamen of every nationality are an every-day sight, excited little notice or comment.
Oto himself, having first consulted his note-book, repaired to a shop on an obscure street where tea, carvings, and cheap Japanese curios were sold. The shopkeeper eyed him sharply, glanced at a slip of rice-paper which Oto presented, then made a low obeisance to the visitor, and having locked the outer door of his shop and lowered the shades, led the way to a narrow and steep stairway, murmuring in his own language: "I break my bones to Your Excellency. Be honourably pleased to mount your servant's despicable stairway to the private office."
What communications passed in that office cannot be known with certainty. Oto, however, received from his countryman several despatches, and entrusted to him a return message of utmost importance. On the following day the nine Japanese met at the wharves by appointment. A boat was awaiting them, manned by a crew of the same nationality. In the offing the boat was taken up by a small, rakish-looking black steamer which some observers declared to be a torpedo-boat, others a "trawler," as the ships of the fishing-fleet were called. Whatever its nature, the craft had heels, for, with black smoke pouring from her short funnel, she soon disappeared to the northward. There were those who averred that they had plainly seen the English ensign flying over her taffrail.
Not to make a further mystery of this odd little vessel, it may be stated at once that she was no other than the Kiku, or "Chrysanthemum"; the same small war-ship which had hailed the Osprey in mid-ocean in her outward voyage, and had received and restored by a piece of incomparable naval dexterity the cabin steward of the gunboat.
The Kiku was a combination of torpedo-boat and destroyer; that is she was a small, swift steamer, fitted with both torpedo-tubes and three-inch rifled guns. Her efficiency in attack would depend largely on her speed, which was not less than twenty-six knots an hour, under forced pressure. For this reason, too, she was used as a despatch-boat. During the first six months of the war she was coaled and provisioned at obscure ports, often making long runs to escape observation.
In the weeks that followed Oto's embarkation, the Kiku's appearance was changed in several important particulars. She now might easily have passed for one of the trawling fleet that were familiar to every sailor in the North Sea. Her torpedo-tubes were concealed by canvas shields, painted black and so arranged that they could be easily drawn aside in action. Her guns were rigged out of sight, and port-holes closed so cleverly that only a trained eye would discover them, and that in broad daylight. At night the Kiku was an innocent fishing steamer, pursuing her honest avocation under the protection of Great Britain.
The sailing of the Baltic fleet had been again and again announced, and as often postponed. Vice-Admiral Rojestvensky knew that he was surrounded by spies, and more than half guessed that danger was awaiting him when once the home sea should have been left behind. At length, on the 21st of October, the great battle-ships and cruisers weighed anchor in earnest and started for Port Arthur. If that stronghold was to be saved, the relieving force could no longer be delayed. The Japanese were tightening their grip daily, and with an enormous sacrifice of life were taking position after position. Kouropatkin had made a vain attempt to march southward and succour the beleaguered fortress, and had been beaten back. Relief could only come by sea. It was believed at St. Petersburg that Stoessel could hold out until February, when Rojestvensky's fleet would be at hand to effect a diversion and open the harbour.
Slowly and majestically the ponderous ships moved onward, the lookouts, doubled in number, watching every suspicious-looking craft, the officers scanning the sea, from the bridges, with powerful marine glasses. Just after sunset the fleet entered the North Sea and turned their massive prows toward the south.